In Band Class, Before the Tuning…
by Oboebyrd
Summary: Alot of swearing, mainly because this is what is going through my head right before band class... bizarre first person narrative.
1. Queen of the Damned

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In Band Class, Before the Tuning…

Oh please. With 'Oboe' in my user name, did you REALLY think I wouldn't write something about the oboe? 

Done with a first person POV… kind of random… what I truly think before band class, rather bizarre… I hope I don't offend any brassies out there! Or wait… I hope I DO! BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!

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Damn trumpets. 

One more time- just one more time! They stand behind me… let's make the oboist jump! Let's blow our trumpet right in her ear!

Some tone THEY have! How'd they get into Wind Ensemble anyway?  
  
Why'd we get the choir room… damn Orchestra… the baritone saxophone on a riser behind me… his bell JUST the right height…

…at least I don't have to play with the Orchestra today… between 'Pavane' and 'Millenium'… it's not worth my time. Oh no… not worth MY time… boy…even to myself I sound stuck up. Whatever! It doesn't matter… after all, who else is in my head but-

Oh. The other oboist is here.

Evil bitch of hell. Hate her, hate her, hate her… can't even play- how'd she get into Wind Ensemble? She sounds like a duck with rabies. Worse even. At least she stopped asking me for fingerings. Oooh, she's glaring at me again. I'm SO frightened, Queen of the Damned! I'm first chair, and you're not- ha ha ha! I guess today I'll just pretend to be friendly with her again, and pretend I don't know what the Spanish assignment- ack!

Stupid trumpets did it again! 

No matter how much I glare at them, they won't stop. You'd think I'm encouraging them. Probably am. Don't care. It's all grist for the little mill churning in my head…

…when I think of it like that, I get a headache… ow… 

Oh! None other than my clarinet buddy is approaching! I bet she has some dig to play on our band director today- it's all good. I don't like him. He doesn't like me. He chooses the crappiest oboe music possible, when he KNOWS I can play better stuff. I've played the Hindemith! That… 'where's the beef song'… whatever it's name is… in ninth grade! I'm in 11th grade now! I…

Oh yes. Friend.

Surprise, surprise- nothing at all to do with our evil band director. Actually, she doesn't have much to say, which isn't a big deal before band class. We have plenty of time to talk during lunch, when we remain, more or less… in band class…

…right… oboe. 

My baby! Ooh, I love it… perfect, NEW SHINY BRIGHT PERFECT PRETTY oboe! From France! I love it, love it, love it… My Greenline Buffet! Greenline Buffet! Ugh… that other oboist is glaring at me again… no, wait… just glaring. Not necessarily at me. Oh well.

Oh, here's my reed! It's cracked. DAMN IT! No worry, I have another. CRAP! This is the bad one! Stupid, stupid, stupid reed case! WHAT DID I PAY FOR THIS? It had better not have been more than five bucks- no… wait, I remember. It was more than five bucks. Crud.

More band members are coming in, now… LATE. I come from across the school, and I'm on time… stupid slackers. They don't have stands, though! I come on time, I get a stand… to share with the Queen of the Damned, of course, but it's still MY stand. She makes me put it away, after all. And when she knocks my music off the stand, she doesn't bother picking it up… curse her…

…ah, the French Horn player has arrived. THE French Horn player. It's not like he's the only one, but he THINKS he is. Thinks he's hot stuff. He's not that great. Oh- here comes his lackey, our first chair percussionist. I can beat on things with sticks, too… why does he think he's so great? 

Hmm… 

…maybe it has something to do with the fact the only comment outsiders… non-oboists… have given me is that, 'It sounds like a duck,'… maybe THAT'S why oboe is so unpopular… I mean, I listened to the recordings, and I really have to agree… it sure sounds better on the reed side than the bell side, though…

Tuning- no! Come on, stupid director, let the oboist tune! You know it's hard for an oboist to tune! It takes a knife! Give us a break!

Nope, nope- over to the first chair flautist, once again. She thinks she's hot stuff… well… I guess she is. But flutes should not tune the band. Flutes are evil. They should NOT TUNE THE BAND. Neither should clarinets. Clarinets are only in tune with themselves.

God- of course we're out of tune. The Evil Bitch of Hell refuses to tune. She just sits there and honks one note out, and holds it, as loud as she can… when our stupid director goes down the line, who's in tune? Mwa. Who's out? THE HELL LADY, THAT'S WHO!

Oh good, here it goes- yet another 'down the row tuning session'. After that, who knows? More stuff by P.D.Q. Bach? Really… who cares? I love a good oboe-reed solo as much as the next oboephile, but-

Lord! The trumpets did it again! In the middle of tuning, even!

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Oboebyrd, who may be returning for more insanity later- who knows?


	2. Directors... pah!

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In Band Class, Before the Tuning…

Still first-person narrative, may be just more random, worthless stuff. I don't even know why I'm posting it. And I do hope nobody has pieced any of this together… though I doubt any of the band members are on this site, but still…

Still with the foul thoughts. Oh dear.

Notes to some of the kind, kind, beautiful reviewers:   
Black Pegasus: Usually **I **don't even wonder what goes on in an oboist's head, which is why mine gets away from me so much… ^_^

Concerned Flautists: You haven't met the flute players in MY band. I've been hit in the head by a piccolo from one of them. THEY ARE EVIL. At least, the piccolo player and the first chair player is. Outside of band, they're nice, though… and OUR drummers don't keep the beat- they just hit things with sticks. Seriously. 

Lord Jareth: My oboe says 'Hi' back, and wonders if you're available for lunch next week? Did I mention it talks to me? ^_^

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Blah, blah, blah.

Our evil director. Talk a lot he does. Maybe it'd be more interesting if my attention was not creeping around somewhere in the back of my skull instead of listening to me talk to myself.

Oh! He's telling us how much better the Orchestra is than us again. Riiiight… let's listen to our supposedly GOOD director insult us… not that the Orchestra is bad, but come on! We're the WIND ENSEMBLE! We're the top of the school. Except for, of course, that annoying evil bitch sitting next to me…

…Hmm… 

Oh! Good thing I was paying attention. Right. First song of the day. The piccolo player is glaring at me. I don't know why. What did I do? I think back to what I had done all that day… kicked the French Horn player, chased two freshmen down the tennis court… miserably failed an important chemistry quiz… 

…crap! When my parents saw that, my doom would be sealed. Sealed! I probably wouldn't survive the lecture! Well… I may survive it but only to be tortured again at a later date…

…wow. My head hurts. Doesn't help that we're now playing 'Heroes Lost and Fallen', just about the worst song any oboist could possibly listen to or see. At least our percussionists can have a lot of fun. Like we have half of the things that this song needs in the percussion section! Ha! They're all in the band room… with the Orchestra. STUPID ORCHESTRA!

Oops!

Gotta pay attention… gotta pay attention…

…hard with the evil duck of hell sitting next to me… hmm…

Something about this entire day has been really screwed up… and for the life of me I can't figure out what it is… It's incredibly distracting…

My oboe is making weird noises. I'm pretty sure it's my fault.

Gotta pay attention… gotta pay attention…

Of course, nobody ELSE notices when the 'oboists' start sounding weird. They assume its part of the gig of having Oboists. I'll show them… trumpets… percussionists… grr… 

Okay… the piccolo player is SEVERELY annoying me! 

Oooh! Rehearsal's over soon… yeah! Out of band class! Of course, as soon as I'm out, I'll be pissed that it's over, because the end of Band means…

…Spanish… with my wonderful partner, THE QUEEN OF THE DAMNED!!

Why does the school insist on putting us together? Is it the oboist's curse? To be attached by the hip? I hate her so much every time I see her my head throbs…

The helpful bell goes off, signaling the end of classes. Meaning our director held us over again.

Damn incompetent fool.

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Oboebyrd: Eh… heh… heh… okay. Thought it'd be interesting to continue this. Hey! I just figured something out! I think I was being flamed! ::Stares in wonder:: Cool! 


End file.
